


Curiosity and Cats

by storyplease



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Friendship, Other, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 18:19:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5938336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storyplease/pseuds/storyplease





	Curiosity and Cats

If there was one thing that Minerva McGonagall hated, it was being deceived. And so, when she first heard the news of the Headmaster’s death, she literally could not believe it. It was as though everything had gone fuzzy- her sight, her hearing, even the smell of lingering smoke from Hagrid’s fire-scorched hut was nothing as she tried to focus on trying to breathe; on slowing the hammering thud in her chest.

When the alarm was sounded by the Order, she’d helped to barricade the students in the Great Hall, her wand held steadily at the door with a Stunning Spell ready on her thin lips. She thanked her lucky stars that it hadn’t come to anything.  There were so many first and second year students cowering behind the tables, their wide, terrified eyes glimmering in the candlelight as the older children tried to comfort them.  It shouldn’t have come to this.  Children should not have to fight in a war.  It was more cruel than she could say.

But if she’d learned anything in her many rotations around the sun, it was that life had a way of being cruel. 

Mercifully, it had been over long before she’d known the specifics of what exactly had happened.  By then, Severus was long gone, and all she had left was a pit of disbelief and slowly-growing anger boiling in her belly.

“It..it isn’t true...” she stammered, wringing her hands together as she ran to Hagrid, who held the still, frail form in his arms, his fat tears pouring down his cheeks like miniature waterfalls.

But it  _ was _ .

Hagrid’s heavy steps to the Infirmary rung out long after he’d disappeared up the staircase, which seemed frozen with the same grief that held everyone else in thrall.

 

“It was Snape, the bastard!  _ He _ killed Dumbledore!  He begged for his life and Snape just looked at him...like...like he was NOTHING….and MURDERED him in cold blood!” Harry Potter sat on one of the benches in the Great Hall, his head in his hands as he repeated the horrible truth over and over again to anyone who would listen.

 

Minerva turned away.  Though she doubted that any of them would be able to sleep, the students had been returned to their dorms hours ago, other than Harry and his friends, who had foolishly tried to fight alongside the Order.  She didn’t fault them for wanting to defend their friends, but they were still only children, really, children who were fighting battle-hardened, mostly-insane Death Eaters.

  
And Severus Snape was one of them, too.

 

A part of her heart did not want to believe it.  She did not want to believe that the tall, gaunt professor, who had been her Transfiguration student (and, she remembered, had done a rather bang-up job on all of his classwork and exams) could have murdered somebody, much less the Headmaster.  Albus was not only one of the most powerful wizards she’d ever met, but Minerva knew that he trusted Severus implicitly, and that was an honor that not even she could rightly say that she had 100%.  She’d seen them meeting in the middle of the night up at the Astronomy Tower.  It seemed that not even adults were immune to ignoring her animagus form, though Severus had nearly caught her more than once when she’d stupidly come too close.

 

At first, she’d thought that they were... _ involved _ , which, while she knew Dumbledore was... _ that way _ and she’d never seen Severus show interest in a woman for anything other than her keen mind...it still seemed rather exploitative. But she’d bitten her tongue and stayed her accusations, especially when she’d seen how gaunt and drained Severus always looked afterwards.  It wasn’t the face of a happily sated boyfriend, it was the face of a man desperately trying to survive.

 

Minerva felt her sympathy grow for her rival Head of House.

 

They had a friendly rivalry, of course.  They competed in a rather cutthroat manner when it came to House Points and Quidditch.  There was quite a lot of snark in the Great Hall and at staff meetings from both of them.  Minerva even teased Severus that he’d only perfected his eyebrow quirk due to her tutelage in the subject. 

 

“Is that so?” he’d replied, arching his eyebrow expertly.  They’d had a good laugh over a cuppa in the staffroom after that.

 

While they weren’t best friends in the way that Minerva was best friends with Hortense Neary and Beatrice Schloemp, her longstanding girlfriends from school, Minerva considered Severus a friend of sorts- certainly close enough to joke around with him while they were off-duty and close enough to enjoy poking fun at their favorite topic of derision; Albus Dumbledore.

 

For while Minerva held Dumbledore in the highest of esteem as a headmaster, his behavior was often more questionable than she’d care to admit. They had a devil of a time coming up with words that rhymed with “lemondrop,” but the ridiculous song that had come of their brainstorming had been worth it.

 

He’d never quite smiled around her, not in the way that most normal people were wont to do.  It was more of a painful grimace with the corners of his mouth turned up.  And, when she’d joked once or twice about whether or not his entire wardrobe was full of the same robes, he’d given her a blank look that had filled her with a deep sense of unease.

Certainly, there had been times where she’d questioned his methods, but he’d never sent a student to the infirmary, which was more than could be said for the other professors, especially the revolving door of Defense professors. She was growing increasingly concerned that Albus was simply going down to Diagon Alley a week before the term started and randomly choosing someone off of the street.

 

But now…

 

“Everything is different,” she muttered dejectedly, as she wandered the halls, not paying attention to where her feet were taking her until she found herself outside of the entrance to the Headmaster’s office.

 

“Please, old friend, let me by,” she said softly, stroking the stone gryffin gently on its muzzle.

 

The gryffin hummed with pleasure and its stone eyes went half-lidded, though Minerva could only feel cold stone under her fingertips.  With a beaky yawn, it stood to the side, giving Minerva access to the hidden staircase.

 

The Headmaster’s office was as he’d left it, she supposed.  She turned her nose up at the messy stack of parchment on his desk.  As Deputy Headmistress, she’d often been tasked with sorting out his messes, and this was worse than usual.

 

And then she remembered that she’d never be able to give Albus a piece of her mind again.

 

The corners of her eyes ached from holding back tears, but she couldn’t do it, not now.  There would be time for tears later. Instead, she approached the wall of portraits and pressed her fingers against the new painting that had appeared on the wall, her voice catching in her throat.

 

“Albus?” she said haltingly, hating how frail and old her voice sounded when she spoke. “Please...please tell me that it isn’t true.”

 

The painting smiled sleepily at her for a moment, and then began to snore again.

 

It was only then that she allowed the tears to come.

* * *

 

 

“Minerva, I have a request to ask of you.” His voice was flat and she could tell that he’d lost weight during the break.

 

_ Good.  He deserves it. _

 

“Yes,  _ Headmaster _ ?” she said briskly, her voice drawing large air quotes on his new title.  The title he didn’t deserve in the least. But she couldn’t call him by his name anymore.  Names were for friends, and Severus Snape was no longer her friend.

Sometimes she wondered if he ever was. She’d been doubting herself a lot lately.

 

“I...please…” he faltered and she could see him wringing his hands together, lines appearing around his eyes that shouldn’t have been there yet, giving him an old, withered look. “Keep them...keep them from the Carrows.”

 

“What exactly do you mean,  _ Headmaster _ ?” Minerva replied, sniffing loudly.

 

“You know what I mean, Minerva. Those... _ two _ ...will use any excuse to harm the students. Hate me if you must, but do not allow your anger to be misplaced so that they suffer. Play your part and keep your head down.  I need you to send any of your precious, troublemaking cubs to  _ me _ first. For while you know that I have a reputation for being cruel, I give you my word that I find the usage of Unforgivables distasteful, especially considering our...reduced student population.”

 

Minerva shot Headmaster Snape a strange look.

 

“Well, of course.  The students always take precedence! But why would  _ you _ care about that in the least?” she asked, crossing her arms. “After all, you’re one of-”

 

“ _ Thank _ you, Minerva,” he replied through gritted teeth, turning to look out of the high window as though she was no longer there, and Minerva wondered at how cold his voice sounded.

 

_ Almost like he’s already dead inside. _

 

She shivered as she made her way down the stairs from the Headmaster’s office.

 

Something didn’t feel right about any of this, but then again, with Voldemort’s influence growing stronger every day, nothing felt right, not really.

 

She wasn’t sure if anything would ever feel right again.

* * *

 

 

Minerva watched from the shadows, her long tail swishing back and forth lazily. There were benefits to being on four paws instead of two legs.  The rather amazing night vision didn’t hurt, either.  Headmaster Snape had invited the Carrows into his office for the seventh time that week, and he’d only emerged long after the last watch with their unconscious bodies levitating behind them.  She flattened herself against the wall to escape detection and followed him slowly.  

 

“Minerva…” he said quietly, without turning around.

 

Her tail bristled. She knew she’d been caught. Two slitted eyes changed into two bespectacled eyes that shone in the meager candlelight as she stared at him.

 

“They...indulged in too much firewhiskey. I only have the best interests of my staff...and the students at heart.” he said, his shoulder drooping as he looked at the two unconscious Death Eaters floating behind him. “I…”

 

“You cannot levitate  _ two _ people to their quarters! It simply isn’t done!” Minerva snapped briskly, pulling her wand out and taking one of the unconscious professors. “I shall return this one.”

 

“Minerva…” his voice was still quiet, but she could hear a rawness that hadn’t been there since long before Dumbledore had been placed to rest. “I...appreciate your assistance.”

 

Minerva nodded curtly and they walked in silence, placing the two “professors” in their beds.  Although Minerva wished to have dumped them in the Black Lake for the Giant Squid to have its watery way with them, she knew that it would not be possible.

 

After all, Voldemort might send Fenrir Grayback, next.

 

“Tell no one what you have seen.” His voice shook as he struggled to keep it even, and for a moment, Minerva could almost see the gangly, skinny boy he’d been.

 

“As though I would!” she huffed, turning from him with an indignant snort.

 

Something wasn’t right.  Though she didn’t have whiskers in her human form, she felt them twitch invisibly against her cheeks.

 

“And Minerva?”

 

“Yes, Headmaster?” Her tone had softened when addressing him by that title.  It was no longer meant to be a jab, though she still held no respect for him.

 

“Remember the muggle saying about curiosity and cats.”

 

Before she could reply, he’d disappeared in a rush of cloth and was gone.

* * *

 

 

Minerva hated feeling conflicted.  Things were so much easier when it was clear where one stood.

 

But she already knew that Snape was not easy in any sense of the term.

 

She’d watched him the entire school year, diverting children to detention with Hagrid, drugging the Carrows each night. And though none of the other staff had seemed to notice it quite as much as Minerva had, no one had complained at the extra patrols the rest of the staff had to pick up while the Carrows lay unconscious in the Headmaster’s office. Though it seemed that he was trying extra hard to be unlikable and unpleasant, he’d kept his word.  He protected the students as best he could.  She wished she could say for sure that this had been intentional, but he refused to give her a clear answer.  She almost went so far as to think that he must be avoiding her, for whenever she attempted corner him, to get a straight answer, he seemed to vanish like the dungeon bat he was rumored to be.

 

It was only when they faced off together and he’d looked her right in the eye that she finally knew for certain.

 

_ Fight me, Minerva. _

 

His voice was in her head and she snarled at him, her face going slightly cat-like in a silent roar.

 

**_Get out of my head, Severus Snape!_ **

 

_ There is no time.  He is coming.  You must make it convincing so that they will look to you as their leader. Do not hold yourself back.  Please, do protect your precious cubs. When this is over, I shall explain everything. _

 

Minerva was filled with rage at the patronizing sneer to his mental voice.  It felt almost good because it made sense and before she knew it, the whip of fire flew from the tip of her wand and he was gone, flying off into the night sky like a black bat.

 

Regardless what she thought of Severus Snape, he was right about one thing. War was coming to Hogwarts.  There was no time to worry about anything else beyond the safety of the students and preparing the castle for the coming siege.

 

The truth could wait. 

 

Besides, if he refused to give her a straight answer, she could always Transfigure him into a small rodent.  After all, cats were famous for playing with their food.

 

And Minerva took great pride in being a rather excellent mouser.

* * *

 

 

Minerva stood at the base of the stairs to the Headmaster’s office, her chest thrumming with an urgent sense of deja vu.

 

_ It’s just as it was back then. _

 

The gryffin leapt aside this time without any words of encouragement, but she still patted its cold head as she always did and it clicked its beak happily as she did so.

 

The stairs seemed endless, and she dragged her weary feet up and up until she’d reached the landing.

 

It was then that she strode purposefully to the wall covered in paintings and stood, hands on hips, looking at Dumbledore’s painting with a mixture of grief and anger.  She did not glance at the painting that had appeared underneath Albus or the permanent line etched between his eyebrows, even though she knew it was there just as she knew he’d be clad all in black.

 

“Albus!” she cried out. “Come now, I know you’re not really sleeping.”

 

One eye peeked open and Albus finally lifted his head.

 

“Ah, Minerva,” he said sweetly, “I’m afraid you’ve caught me.  Oh dear, are you hurt? Why is there blood on your robes?”

 

“You needn’t worry. The blood is not mine.” Minerva’s mouth was a thin line.

 

Albus blinked for a moment and then nodded. “Of course, Minerva. How foolish of me to assume otherwise.”

 

“Explain.”  Minerva’s arms were crossed.

 

“Whatever can you mean, my dear?” Dumbledore asked with a kindly chuckle.

 

“Now.” Minerva was rigid, her eyes staring unblinkingly at the man she’d trusted for so long with a newfound sense of suspicion she’d never had before.

 

“Very well,” he sighed, and the painting’s demeanor changed, growing still and almost cold in demeanor.

 

The painting began to speak carefully and quietly, detailing everything from the First Wizarding War through his untimely death, and it was then that Minerva finally learned the truth.

 

It was unnerving how difference this Albus Dumbledore was from the Albus Dumbledore that Minerva had known...or at least,  _ thought _ she’d known.  For many years afterwards, she was unsure if she’d ever  _ really _ known who he was.

 

Not long after, with her head still reeling, she’d seen the Pensieve where it had been left out, the memories swirling within, and she’d been inexplicably drawn to them.  When she had returned, her cheeks were stained with tears.  She’d never known, not  _ really _ .  There had always been distance between them that she could never truly get through.  Now, though, she knew  _ why _ .

 

It was a pity that knowing could not bring back what was lost forever.


End file.
